Much Ado About You

When you're the oldest daughter, you don't get to have any fun!Witty, orphaned Tess Essex faces her duty: marry well and marry quickly, so she can arrange matches for her three sisters -- beautiful Annabel, romantic Imogen and practical Josie. After all, right now they're under the rather awkward guardianship of the perpetually tipsy Duke of Holbrook. But just when she begins to think that all might end well, one of her sisters bolts with a horse-mad young lord, and her own fianc_ just plain runs away.Which leaves Tess contemplating marriage to the sort of man she wishes to avoid -- one of London's most infamous rakes. Lucius Felton is a rogue whose own mother considers him irredeemable! He's delicious, Annabel points out. And he's rich, Josie notes. But although Tess finally consents to marry him, it may be for the worst reason of all. Absurd as she knows it to be, she may have fallen utterly in love . . .

Much Ado About You

Chapter One

September 1816
Holbrook Court, seat of the Duke of Holbrook
On the outskirts of Silchester

In the afternoon

"I am happy to announce that the rocking horses havebeen delivered, Your Grace. I have placed them in thenursery for your inspection. As yet, there is no sign of thechildren."

Raphael Jourdain, Duke of Holbrook, turned. He hadbeen poking a fire smoldering in the cavernous fireplaceof his study. There was a reserved tone in his butler'svoice that signaled displeasure. Or perhaps it would bemore accurate to say that Brinkley's tone signaled the disgruntlementof the entire household of elderly servants,not one of whom was enchanted by the idea of accommodatingthemselves to the presence of four small, femalechildren. Well, the hell with that, Rafe thought. It wasn'tas if he'd asked to have a passel of youngsters on thepremises.

"Rocking horses?" came a drawling voice from a deepchair to the right of the fireplace. "Charming, Rafe.Charming. One can't start too early making the little darlingsinterested in horseflesh." Garret Langham, the Earlof Mayne, raised his glass toward his host. His black curlswere in exquisite disarray, his comments arrogant to afault, and his manners barely hid a seething fury. Not thathe was furious at Rafe; Mayne had been in a slow burn forthe past few months. "To Papa and his brood of infantequestriennes," he added, tossing back his drink.

"Stubble it!" Rafe said, but without much real animosity.Mayne was a damned uncomfortable companion atthe moment, what with his poisonous comments andblack humor. Still, one had to assume that the foul tempercaused by the shock of being rejected by a woman wouldwear off in a matter of time.

"Why the plural, as in rocking horses?" Mayne asked."As I recall, most nurseries contain only one rockinghorse."

Rafe took a gulp of his brandy. "I don't know muchabout children," he said, "but I distinctly remember mybrother and me fighting over our toys. So I bought four ofthem."

There was a second's silence during which the earl consideredwhether to acknowledge the fact that Rafe obviouslystill missed his brother (dead these five years, now).He dismissed the impulse. Manlike, he observed no bene-fit to maudlin conversation.

"You're doing those orphans proud," he said instead."Most guardians would stow the children out of sight. It'snot as if they're your blood."

"There's no amount of dolls in the world that will make up for their situation," Rafe said, shrugging. "Their fathershould have thought of his responsibilities before heclimbed on a stallion."

The conversation was getting dangerously close to thesort of emotion to be avoided at all costs, so Maynesprang from his chair. "Let's have a look at the rockinghorses, then. I haven't seen one in years."

"Right," Rafe said, putting his glass onto the table witha sharp clink. "Brinkley, if the children arrive, bring themupstairs, and I'll receive them in the nursery."

A few minutes later the two men stood in the middle ofa large room on the third floor, dizzily painted with murals.Little Bo Peep chased after Red Riding Hood, whowas surely in danger of being crushed by the giant stridingacross the wall, his raised foot lowering over a featherbed sporting a huge green pea under the coverlet. Theroom resembled nothing so much as a Bond Street toyshop. Four dolls with spun gold hair sat primly on abench. Four doll beds were propped atop each other, nextto four doll tables, on which sat four jack-in-the-boxes. Inthe midst of it all was a group of rocking horses gracedwith real horsehair and coming almost to a man's waist.

"Jesus," Mayne said.

Rafe strode into the room and stamped on the rocker ofone of the horses, making it clatter back and forth on thewooden floor. A door on the side of the room swung open,and a plump woman in a white apron poked her head out.

"There you are, Your Grace," she said, beaming. "We'rejust waiting for the children. Would you like to meet thenew maids now?"

"Send them on in, Mrs. Beeswick."

Four young nursemaids crowded into the room after her. "Daisy, Gussie, Elsie, and Mary," said the nanny."They're from the village, Your Grace, and pleased tohave a position at Holbrook Court.We're all eager for thelittle cherubs to arrive." The nursemaids lined up to eitherside of Mrs. Beeswick, smiling and curtsying.

"Jesus," Mayne repeated. "They won't even share amaid, Rafe?"

"Why should they? My brother and I had three nursesbetween us."

"Three?"

"Two for my brother, ever since he turned duke at ageseven, and one for me."

Mayne snorted. "That's absurd. When's the last timeyou met your wards' father, Lord Brydone?"

"Not for years," Rafe said, picking up a jack-in-the-boxand pressing the lever so that it hopped from its box witha loud squeak. "The arrangement was just a matter of anote from him and my reply."

"You have never met your own wards?"

"Never. I haven't been over the border in years, andBrydone only came down for the Ascot, the Silchester,and, sometimes, Newmarket. To be honest, I don't thinkhe really gave a damn for anything other than his stables.He didn't even bother to list his children in Debrett's. Ofcourse, since he had four girls, there was no question ofinheritance. The estate went to some distant cousin."

"Why on earth—" Mayne glanced at the five womenstanding to the side of the room and checked himself.

"He asked me," Rafe said, shrugging. "I didn't thinktwice of it. Apparently Monkton had been in line, but hecocked up his toes last year ...

Much Ado About You. Copyright © by Eloisa James. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

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